


treading water

by loafers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loafers/pseuds/loafers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick visits Harry on tour in America (pwp/pwf - porn with feelings???).</p>
            </blockquote>





	treading water

Harry warned Nick about the heat, how hot it’d be in Dallas when they were there, and Nick knew anyway but it’s the only time his schedule was open to allow a trip to join the tour for a couple days so Nick didn’t fucking care where they were in America, just wanted to be there too, wherever Harry is because it’s just been so _fucking_ long, jesus. 

But they can’t even fuck, not really, there’s just no time. There’s some desperate rushed handjobs as soon as Nick gets to the hotel that just leave them both sweaty and overheated and frustrated, from the heat and the need to touch longer when Harry’s being rushed off with the boys for interviews and soundcheck and fuck knows what. 

Nick should sleep but with the heat and jet lag, Nick’s fucked, his skin feels too tight, itchy. He’s wired and he’s in the same goddamn city as Harry after _months_ and the ten minutes they got together wasn’t enough, it’s never enough but especially not after so long. A few stolen desperate kisses and handjobs exchanged is nowhere near enough. Nick knows that later, yes, later they’ll have each other properly, when Harry’s finished giving himself to the world he’ll give himself to Nick but Nick’s impatient, goddamn it. He doesn’t want to _share_. 

Nick’s seen Harry in his post show high before but it’s different out here in America, he’s dirtier, sweatier, bounces offstage and drags Nick into some corner, growls into his mouth about how badly he needs him to fuck him tonight, and they’re both panting when they have to part ways for their separate cars back to the hotel. 

Harry’s a little less keyed up when he gets into the hotel room. He’s still shirtless and strips the rest of his clothes off as soon as he’s got the door shut. Nick’s missed the view so badly, Harry’s body, jesus. He flicks off the TV and downs the rest of his minibar Jack and coke, holds his hands out to Harry like a grabby toddler but he doesn’t _care_ and he knows Harry doesn’t either because he comes right over. 

Harry stumbles a bit like his legs aren’t steady, like he’s drunk, but Nick knows he’s not had a thing, so serious about performing he won’t let himself, not even just one to calm his nerves. It’s enough of a rush in itself, Harry’s said, to which Nick only rolls his eyes. Nick supposes it’s true, like doing the radio but amplified by about a million. 

It feels surreal, to be able to pull Harry in to stand between his spread thighs, just to be able to touch him, his skin sweat sticky under Nick’s fingers. It’s not helped by the lack of sleep, Nick doesn’t even know how long it’s been, couldn’t really manage it on the flight over, excited like a little kid, nervous too. It was stupid to be nervous, Harry’s just the same, the feeling is just the same, that awful sickly heart in his throat feeling that makes Nick feel like he’s approximately half a second away from doing something stupid. 

“Put on a good show, don’t you?” Nick says, eyebrow arched, his hands on Harry’s hips, smiling up at him. He tried to tell Harry backstage after the show how good he’d done but Harry was too busy shoving his tongue down Nick’s throat to listen so he figures it’s Harry’s own fault his urge for breathless sincerity has passed. 

“I was better because I knew you were watching,” Harry says, and Nick almost swallows his tongue, that beautiful earnest sincerity that makes him blush. Harry’s skin feels hot and tacky under Nick’s fingers, not exactly pleasant, and Nick tries to focus on that rather than his heart beating too hard, the declarations of forever begging to trip off his tongue.

“Mm, you kept looking,” Nick agrees, his thumbs stroking down the ridges of Harry’s hip bones, leading down and in. Harry’s breath hitches a little. 

“I was nervous like when my mum watches.” 

Nick scoffs. “Thanks, darling.”

“No, you know what I mean,” Harry laughs and ducks down, but Nick leans out of reach, dodges his kiss, grins at Harry’s pathetic little whine.

“You just compared me to your mum and you’re all sweaty and now you want me to _kiss you_? I don’t know about you popstars,” Nick tuts, shaking his head. 

Harry just grabs his face, an unexpected move, he’s usually so passive, follows Nick’s lead even when he wants something in particular, happier in waiting for Nick to grant whatever he wants to him, but Nick’s surprised now by Harry’s hands firm on his face, the little growl in the back of his throat, his teeth sharp when he bites down hard on Nick’s bottom lip before licking over it, then right into his mouth, kisses him. Nick can’t help moaning into it, pleased Harry can surprise him still after so long, remembering how exciting it is with Harry, he seemed to forget a bit with being away for so long. 

Harry makes him feel so young, as naff as that is, feels like a teenager, well, more than usual, wants to do ridiculous risky irresponsible things when Harry’s touching him or smiling at him or just in the same fucking room as him. Nick slips his hands around to squeeze Harry’s arse and Harry groans, rocks forward in a quick jerk that makes their teeth clack together. Nick pulls away, laughing as Harry pants, dodges when Harry sways back in close, mouth first.

“Alright there, Styles?” Nick says with a smile, and Harry whines. “Eager, are we?” 

“Yeah, shut up,” Harry mumbles with his best little kitten frown and it’s really really hard for Nick to keep resisting when he’s so fucking adorable. But he’s feeling weird now, wired, like he wants to do something more exciting than fucking his boyfriend in a hotel bed. He wants to get up to some mischief, and Harry can tell. “Oh, you’ve got that look,” Harry says, “that meat suit look.” 

“Hottest you’ve ever looked, I stand by it,” Nick says with a sharp grin. Harry shakes his head but he’s smiling, leaning back, folding to whatever Nick wants to get up to without even knowing what it is. Nick loves him so much.

Nick stands, jostling Harry back a bit, leans in to kiss his mouth quickly. “Put on some pants, popstar,” he says, moving away to dig through his luggage and shoving his jeans off at the same time. He looks over and catches Harry openly watching with enough want in his eyes to make Nick blush, especially with how he’s standing there all nineteen and naked and half hard, kiss bruised mouth and everything. Nick doesn’t understand it, how someone as amazing and beautiful and kind as Harry _wants_ him, still, even after over a year, seems to really actually love him for real, it’s. It’s the best thing Nick’s ever done, not that he had much say in the matter, but not fucking it up with Harry is his greatest achievement and he’s just so pleased every moment of every day. 

Nick throws his jeans at Harry’s head. They miss, but Harry still laughs and ducks, acting like he’s embarrassed to be caught staring but Nick knows if he mentioned it Harry would just say something horrible about how beautiful he is. 

Nick pulls on his little red shorts and takes off his necklace and watch, leaves them on the bedside table, next to where Harry’s left his and that’s a thing Nick will want to remember forever, their watches and necklaces curled up next to each other, this little casual nothing thing that Nick just so desperately loves the sight of. He wants to take a picture. God, when did he get so fucking sentimental? He’ll do it later, when Harry can’t see to make fun of him. Although the bastard would probably just want him to send him a copy. 

When he turns back around Harry’s got his underpants on but his cock is obviously hard, hm, a problem. Nick grabs the fluffy white hotel dressing gown from the chair beside the bed and hands it to Harry. 

“Why do you want me dressed?” Harry asks with a frown, seemingly affronted, but Nick knows it’s mostly just curiosity. Besides, Harry still takes the robe and slips it on. It’s big and fluffy enough that it hides the shape of his hard cock easily. Nick’s pleased.

“You’ll see,” Nick says with a grin and crosses to the door, grabbing Harry’s hand on the way, and then pulls Harry out with him into the hallway. Nick looks over his shoulder at Harry and Harry’s smiling, biting his lip like he’s trying not to, eyes bright like a little kid getting up to some mischief. 

Nick looks both ways down the hallway because he can’t fucking help himself, knocks Harry against the wall beside their room door and kisses him breathless. 

“Nick, what’re we doing?” Harry gasps when Nick pulls away and tugs him down the hall, towards the lifts. 

“It’s hot, I feel like a swim,” Nick says as he pulls Harry close in front of the lift, watching the numbers climb up to their floor. Harry feels so good, soft and warm tucked against him in the fluffy robe, smelling like delicious dirty sweaty boy and fresh laundry. 

“The pool’s closed,” Harry laughs as the lift doors slide open with a ding and Nick tugs him in, crowds him against the side and reaches for the button for lower ground where the pool is.

“You’re an international popstar, Harold, nothing’s closed,” Nick mumbles, their mouths close and hot, feeling immensely pleased with himself as he kisses Harry again, gets his hand inside Harry’s robe and rubs over Harry’s hard cock through his pants, laughing as he swallows down Harry’s moan, shifts against Harry when Harry curls his arms around Nick’s shoulders. 

Harry’s shameless, hesitation seems to be just surface level, a necessary show so that Harry can give in and go along with it. The record will show he put up a fight. Nick doesn’t care, doesn’t doubt for a moment Harry would follow him to the end of the Earth, and it’s terrifying and thrilling and ridiculous and Nick can’t believe it. He kisses him harder, gives up on touching his cock even, just gets his arms around him and holds him tight, needs to feel him pressed as close as possible against his body or he might _die_ from all the feeling thrumming for him. 

They get to the floor and Harry’s flushed and beautiful when Nick pulls away to lead them out of the lift. The gym is open, a 24 hour affair, but it’s deserted so they slip through easily, Harry giggling when they break into a run, like they’re doing something awfully illicit, sneaking into the hotel pool after hours. 

The door isn’t even locked, and Nick’s pleased because he doesn’t know what he’d do if it was.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Harry says breathlessly, grinning ear to ear as he bumps up behind Nick, his fingers slipping against Nick’s sides. It’s dark, except for the lights set in the sides of the pool, casting a lovely shifting light bouncing off the ceiling. 

Nick laughs low, turning to face Harry, stepping backwards a little until the door clicks shut behind them. “I know,” Nick says, hushed and conspiratorial so Harry’s bark of laughter seems extra loud and ungainly. Nick covers his mouth. “We’re being sneaky,” he says in a whisper and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry says, smiling and shaking his head. He’s right, Nick does feel ridiculous but Nick’s ok with it. 

He gets his hands on the belt knotted around Harry’s waist keeping the robe shut and tugs it loose, pushes the robe off his shoulders to pool on the cool tiled floor, spreads his hand over Harry’s ribs, thumb stroking to brush against a nipple, leans in for a kiss but Harry knocks his hands away, steps back and it’s enough of a tragedy that Nick whines, maybe even pouts. Harry laughs and slips away, dives into the still pool with startling grace. 

Nick stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for Harry to surface, and when he does he flips his hair off his face with a wet smack and a spray of water and says, “Well, you wanted to swim,” like the smug little idiot he is. Nick’s going to make him pay.

Nick makes a scrunchy face at Harry and tugs off his t-shirt, shoves down his shorts too and smiles at Harry’s surprised laugh. When he looks Harry’s biting his lip, watching unabashedly, just like before, as Nick slips into the pool with less flair than Harry but a lot more naked. He surfaces, shoves his hair off his forehead just in time to get a faceful of Harry’s wet underwear. 

“Ugh,” Nick says and peels them off his head. He throws them over the side of the pool and they land with a wet slap against the tile.

“Skinny dipping?” Harry says, low and amused, grinning as he swims over to where Nick is. He looks smug and self assured and Nick didn’t think this through because now Harry’s naked and getting closer so Nick’s kind of fucked if he thought he was going to get any kind of sexy revenge.

Harry’s foot makes first contact, kicking out and bumping Nick’s shin before he swims a little closer and slips his leg right between Nick’s, their bodies sliding lazy and slow against one another, weightless in the water, Harry’s skin a warm contrast to the cool water. 

They’re both moving their arms and legs to keep afloat and it’s annoying because all Nick wants to do is get his hands on Harry’s body, wrap him in his arms and hold him close. Harry dips his head down under the water and then back up, spurts a careful stream from his mouth straight at Nick’s face. 

“You horrible child,” Nick says, mostly smiling but wincing a little just for show. Alarmingly enough, Nick doesn’t mind so much being spat in the face by Harry Styles. 

Nick ducks under the water to get his own mouthful to spit back at Harry but Harry just opens his mouth and tries to catch it. “Ugh,” Nick says, “disgusting.”

“What, you’ve spat worse in my mouth before,” Harry says with a filthy grin and arousal hits Nick like a punch in the gut, almost bends him double with the force of it and the sudden assault of memory; Harry’s tongue curling hot in his mouth chasing the taste of his own come, eager and desperate for it, christ, Nick needs to touch him. Swimming was a stupid idea. 

Really stupid, because now Harry’s pulling away from him, body too slippery in the water for Nick to get a good hold on him and keep the bastard close, throws Nick a grin and dives under with an uncoordinated kick of his feet splashing Nick with a faceful of water as he swims away, his body long and lean under the water, surprisingly graceful. Nick’s transfixed, realises it’s more than just the usual amount Harry’s body warrants, it’s the first time he’s seen him swim. 

Nick’s always so caught up on the fact that, god, he’s been with Harry for over a year now, longer than he’s ever been in a relationship with anyone before, that he forgets about the fact that if you were to add up the time they’ve actually literally been together, like in the same bloody country, over that year, it’d equal out to a handful of months, maybe. He shouldn’t, Nick tells himself he shouldn’t, but there’s definitely a part of him that lets that fact niggle at him; maybe that’s the whole reason they’ve worked for so long. They can’t get bored of each other if they’ve not been given a chance. 

It hits him at times like this, when it’s been a year and they’ve never done something as mundane as gone swimming together. There’s so much they haven’t done together, and Harry’s out there in the world doing more and more, having new experiences and making new memories without Nick all the time and Nick doesn’t know how he can compete with that, how he can fit into Harry’s life. It makes the whole thing feel a bit futile, but then Harry’s there and everything Nick frets over is just totally eclipsed by how much he loves him.

“Harry,” Nick shouts as Harry surfaces, half the length of the pool away from him now. “Haz!” 

Harry shoves his hair back off his face as he turns, significantly less flaily so Nick assumes it must be more shallow where he is. “What?” he says with a grimace, slapping his ear a bit as if to knock the water out. Nick laughs. 

“This is the first time we’ve ever been swimming,” Nick says, voice lower but still echoing off the high ceiling, mocking him for his accidental sentimentality. 

But Harry just raises his arms up, fists clenched emphatically as he frowns seriously. “First time!” he cheers triumphantly, like he always does, from the first time he slept at Nick’s to the first time they fucked to the first time he had dinner with Nick’s parents to the first time they fought over what to watch on television. 

Harry likes first times, new experiences, and maybe that’s nice that Harry sort of gets to experience everything for the first time all over again with Nick. Harry seems to like it, insists things are different when Nick’s there, even just watching reruns on TV, he’ll say, “oh, I’ve seen this one,” and when Nick goes to change the channel he won’t let him. “I haven’t watched it with _you_ , though,” he says, and Nick can’t argue, has no choice but to let himself be forcibly snuggled while he puts up with Harry’s comments that come just a second before whatever he’s commenting on happens in the program. Which is _kind of_ useful, Harry can tell him whenever there’s a good bit coming up so he can stop staring adoringly at Harry’s bloody _nose_ or something to pay attention. Harry always knows the bits that’ll make Nick laugh, and that makes him feel giggly and squirmy in his stomach like when he was thirteen. 

Nick starts to make his way over, treading water until his toes skim the bottom of the pool and he realises he can stand. Harry watches him, strange little smile on his face as he backs up, keeping the distance between them. “Well, you’re good at it,” Harry says. 

“Hm?” Nick hums, distracted by the fact that he still hasn’t got Harry’s skin against his. 

“Swimming.” Harry’s back hits the side of the pool and he tilts his head back, the water sitting just level with his underarms, drips clinging to his chin and nose, 

Nick scoffs and wades closer. “I’m really not. You wouldn’t know, not done any, have I?”

“We could have a race?”

“No thanks, would prefer not to suffer a humiliating defeat tonight. Not with your giant cock flapping about, my ego can’t take it,” Nick grumbles, and Harry barks out a laugh, reaches for Nick and pulls him close.

“Hey,” Harry says soft and amused, and gets a hand on Nick’s cock, hard for him still even in the cool water, has been since up in the room. “You have the best cock, my favourite one. And you’re very good at swimming. I think you’re good at everything,” he says and Nick rolls his eyes, bites his lip through a grin he can’t help, kisses Harry because he’s sweet and his and stroking his cock long and lazy under the water. 

“You’re rotten at everything,” Nick says against Harry’s mouth and Harry just laughs, tightens his grip and rubs his thumb just under the head of Nick’s cock. “Not everything,” Nick says, voice gone a little tighter from how perfectly Harry knows how to touch him. Harry begins to tug his cock a little quicker, the movement of his arm sending steady little waves of water lapping against Nick’s chest. 

Nick crowds Harry against the pool wall, kisses his mouth hard and Harry moans, hand slipping away from Nick’s cock, stroking over his belly as he gets his arms around Nick properly to hold onto him tightly. Nick doesn’t miss Harry’s touch too much, not with the water all around and Harry’s perfect slick skin to press himself against, aligns their bodies so their cocks bump and slide slick together. Harry gasps and Nick gets a hand between them, wrapped tight around both of them as they rock together, falling into an easy, familiar rhythm. 

Nick ducks his head, fastens his mouth over a tattoo on Harry’s shoulder he’s not seen before, new and pretty, some little fish thing, Nick’ll hear about it later no doubt, but now he wants to cover it with his own mark, reclaim Harry’s skin for his own where it’s different to the last time he saw him and kissed him. 

“Nick, Nick I missed you so much,” Harry gasps, verging on desperate, his fingers tight in Nick’s hair, holding him in place so Nick lets his teeth press firmer, sucks harder at Harry’s skin. “So much,” Harry moans. 

“Shh,” Nick says when he pulls away, presses kisses along his collar bone and then up his throat, over his chin to press their mouths together. Harry parts his lips, sucks on Nick’s tongue greedily and Nick holds Harry tighter, jerks them off quicker.

“You don’t,” Harry murmurs, tugging at Nick’s lip with his teeth. “You don’t understand. I _really_ missed you,” Harry says, low voice breaking, going a bit higher with emotion. Nick lets their cocks go, understands that Harry needs something else now, needs Nick’s arms around him, his body against him. 

“I know, love. I’m here now,” Nick says, holding Harry close, his fingers in Harry’s wet hair cradling his head against his shoulder, feels Harry’s breath hitch and his nails dig into his back. “I missed you too, shh.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, presses his face against Nick’s throat, and Nick can feel the tiny tremble in him, how tense he is, his unsteady breath against his skin. 

“We should go back to the room, come on,” Nick says softly, and feels like a dick for making Harry go on some stupid adventure when he should have known how Harry gets, all overwhelmed and full of emotion, exhausted from doing the show. 

“Yeah, please,” Harry says and pulls back with a grateful smile, his eyes wet in a way Nick’s sure isn’t from the pool. 

They climb out of the pool and Nick fetches the robe for Harry, wraps him up in it tight and warm. He gets his own shorts and t-shirt back on, sticking to his wet skin awkwardly, and gathers up Harry’s wet underwear in one hand, Harry’s hand in his other, and leads him out of the pool, back through the gym. Harry doesn’t say much as they wait for the lift, but he holds Nick’s hand tight so Nick doesn’t mind. 

Harry lets Nick pull him close against his side in the lift, reaches up and fixes Nick’s hair for him a bit and Nick smiles, chases Harry’s careful fingers with his mouth, presses kisses against his fingertips that make Harry smile and laugh. 

“Sorry about in the pool,” Harry says once they’re safely back in their room and drying off with big, soft hotel towels. 

“It’s alright,” Nick says, feeling like he should be the one apologising. 

“I don’t know what happened, I’m just glad you’re here,” Harry mumbles, not quite meeting Nick’s eyes as he steps closer.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Nick says and pulls Harry in, lets both of their towels drop to the floor. They’re both naked and damp still, but neither of them seem to mind, Harry leaning into Nick’s body, tilting his face up for a kiss. Nick gives it to him, a brief soft press of his mouth against Harry’s. “I love you, you know?” Nick says, voice a low rumble. 

Harry’s face spreads into a pleased smile and he squirms like he wants to get closer to Nick even though it’s impossible, they’re pressed naked skin to skin, thigh to chest. “I know. I love you too,” he says, and holds Nick close as he takes a step back, backs up until the back of his knees hit the big hotel bed and he goes down, pulling Nick with him, spreading his legs so Nick lands between, both of them giggling a little as they squirm up to the pillows, trying to keep kissing as they go. 

Nick leans up on his elbow, hovering above Harry, his hand spread out on Harry’s chest, thumb rubbing idly. “You alright?” he asks. 

Harry rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft. “Yeah, promise. We can have sex now,” he says, arching up to catch Nick’s mouth with his own and Nick lets him, lets his body press Harry’s down into the bed and kisses him like he means it, deep and greedy, trying to show Harry how much he loves him. 

Harry’s hands slip down Nick’s back, legs spreading wider and hands on his arse, pulling their hips together tight as he grinds against him, both of them moaning at the filthy pressure, cocks swelling easy and eager to full hardness. 

“You’re going to fuck me, right?” Harry murmurs against Nick’s mouth and Nick groans, presses his forehead against Harry’s and tries to catch his breath, lost it in the rush, how quickly things’ve gone hot and desperate. “Please, Nick, I need you,” he says, but he doesn’t need to, and Nick laughs, feels like he might cry from how overwhelmed he feels. 

“I’d like nothing more,” Nick says, and presses his mouth to Harry’s again briefly before pulling away to lean across the bed for the bedside table, for the lube he knows Harry has there, knows from all the times he’s watched him fuck himself over Skype. The memory makes Nick rush, snatch open the drawer and grab at the tube, catching a condom too because Harry’s organised enough to have one right there. 

Harry’s flushed and panting, watching Nick with dark hooded eyes, legs spread, cock fat and full lying up against his belly. It’s a familiar sight but still makes Nick’s head spin a bit, makes his cock throb. Harry bites his lip, reaches for Nick as he settles back between his legs and pulls him down for kiss with his hand tight of the back of Nick’s neck. 

Nick kisses him, lets Harry set the pace of it as he’s distracted by the screw top of the lube, squeezing it out onto his fingers and not even bothering to warm it, too desperate to give Harry what he needs now, presses his fingers between Harry’s cheeks, rubbing slick over Harry’s hole, revelling in the way Harry arches and pushes into it, moaning against Nick’s mouth and fisting a hand in his hair, pulling tight and then tighter when Nick eases his finger in. 

“God, Nick,” Harry says, voice cracking and breaking, and Nick pulls back to watch him, look him in the eye as he works his finger in and then out of him, probably quicker than he should straight off but he knows Harry can take it, knows Harry wants to take it. “More, please,” Harry groans, head arching back restlessly, hips thrusting to meet the press of Nick’s finger, cock smacking wetly against his belly. 

Nick’s not in any mood to tease, sits back a little and presses a second finger in beside the first, stretches him open and smoothes his hand over Harry’s tensing belly, bends to kiss his thigh, his knee. “You look so lovely,” Nick says, can’t help himself. 

“Stop looking at me and fuck me,” Harry groans. 

“Yeah?” Nick asks, fingers stilling, a third nudging slick at him. 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Harry says, breathless, and Nick’s just going to have to trust him, pulls his fingers away and reaches for the lube again as Harry reaches for the condom, rips it open and curls up, scooting down closer to Nick momentarily to roll it over his cock, a quick, smooth motion that Nick’s grateful for. 

Harry falls back on the bed and Nick follows him, bending over him as he strokes his slick hand over his cock, getting himself wet and then lining himself up, holding himself steady, and he thinks maybe Harry isn’t breathing, watching Nick with wide, dark eyes, mouth open and Nick can tell he’s half a second away from blurting out another plea, so Nick kisses him and leans in, guides his cock inside Harry’s body. 

“Fuck,” Harry gasps, ragged, and his hands curl around Nick’s thighs, nails digging into the backs as Nick eases in slow and steady, a tight stretch, but Harry pants into Nick’s mouth and urges him on, pushes his arse down on Nick’s cock. 

Nick waits until he’s fully inside, Harry’s body clenching hot down on the entire thick length of his cock, before he gets a hand between them around Harry’s cock, hard and slippery wet, and begins to fuck him, steady but building up into a hard rhythm, quick.

He strokes Harry’s cock in time as his hips speed up, fucking him as good as he ever does, and Harry curls his arms around Nick’s shoulders, pulls him down against him so he can bury his face in Nick’s neck and shoulder, teeth dragging and mouth suckling between gasps, his legs folding around Nick’s hips and squeezing tight so Nick has no choice but to stay deep, rocking into him in sharp little thrusts. 

“So good, perfect, god,” Harry gasps, voice tight and wrecked. Nick can’t answer, doesn’t remember speech, only this feeling, Harry’s body tight and hot around him, under him. He fists Harry’s cock quicker, tighter, and Harry body jerks, trembles, his voice going stuttery and breathy in Nick’s ear as he comes. “Fuck, fuck,” Harry gasps, and bites down on Nick’s shoulder, fingers digging into Nick’s back so hard he’s sure he’ll bruise.

“Nick, please, keep going,” Harry pants, unnecessarily, because Nick’s not going to stop, keeps on fucking Harry until he’s got nothing left, comes hard with his cock deep inside him, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing stars, his whole body flooded with warmth, the best orgasm he’s had in months, since Harry left. 

“Jesus,” Nick says as he rolls off Harry, pulls out of him and gets rid of the condom. 

“Missed that too,” Harry mumbles, slow and syrupy. It’s like he’s in slow motion, rolling over to fold himself half on top of Nick, curling his body around him, nuzzling against his chest happily. 

It feels too hot again, their skin all damp and sticky, but Nick doesn’t care, just wipes Harry’s come off his hand onto the sheets and wraps his arms around Harry, enjoying their sweaty cuddle more than he should. 

“Day off tomorrow,” Harry mumbles, and yawns. Nick strokes his fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his forehead and Harry smiles, noses up against Nick’s jaw until he kisses his mouth. 

“What’s there to see in Dallas, then? You gonna show me the sights?” 

“Hm, no,” Harry says. “I mean, you could fuck me against the window if you really wanna see Dallas that bad, but I’m not letting you out of this room.”

Nick laughs. “Sounds good.”


End file.
